


Tuesday Nights: Snapshots

by chibi_nightowl



Series: Tuesday Nights [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - No Capes, Food, Lots of Food, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Suggestive language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Snapshots of random moments in time in the Tuesday Nights universe. Featuring bartender Jason, businessman Tim, and the rest of the crew!





	1. Happy Birthday Tim!

**Author's Note:**

> I suddenly remembered last night all the little drabbles and shorts I meant to add to this AU before I post the next story. And while the next story I'm working on isn't the BIG one, it's still rather important to the overall series, so here's a bunch of short stories that take place over what I believe will be a two year period of time between the end of Milestones to the next BIG story.

Jason can feel the tip of his tongue sticking out as he tries to pipe the melted chocolate just right on the parchment paper. He’s done pretty good with most of this recipe but for some reason, his chocolate keeps hardening faster than it should and he has to melt it again in his double boiler. Next to him, Alfred hums his approval.   
  
“Very good. It seems to be taking this time.”  
  
“About fucking time,” Jason mutters, ignoring the old man’s gimlet eye of reproach. This is his house, not Wayne Manor, he can swear all he likes. Not that it stops him from swearing there. He just tries to rein it in somewhat. Sorta.   
  
“Everything else in this recipe has come along swimmingly. You underestimate your baking skills.”   
  
“More like I don’t want to overestimate them,” Jason returns and eyes the chocolate handle critically. It’s not bad and is the right size for a change. He just has to get these chocolate handles right for the cupcake cauldrons he made earlier. Those and the marshmallow cream were a piece of, well, cake compared to decorative chocolate he’s working with.   
  
Alfred chuckles quietly. There’s always an understated quality to it, like he’s laughing at something else aside from the obvious. Jason swears that one day, he’s going to get a belly laugh from the old butler. Tim’s said that if it ever happens, the world will come to an end. Whatever, his boyfriend has an over inflated sense of the dramatic sometimes. Jason blames Dick for it, the circus ass that he still is.   
  
“Your butterbeer preparations are already complete?” Alfred prods, glancing at the fridge. He’s been quietly amused over the whole themed birthday party for Tim since Jason approached him for his help with the baking.   
  
“Yeah. I still think it’s too sweet though. All this crap is a child’s sugary dream and a parent’s worst cavity inducing nightmare.”   
  
“I sincerely doubt Master Tim will complain, not if you’ve made it.”  
  
“Thanks.” For all of Jason’s grumbles, he agrees with Alfred. Tim is a sucker for anything homemade, especially if it’s for him. The younger man isn’t quite a walking disaster in the kitchen but he does need a recipe and a set of instructions all laid out for him before he can proceed.   
  
Jason remembers the first time Tim cooked for him. His boyfriend was so proud of how everything turned out that he didn’t have the heart to tell him he despises asparagus.   
  
“You appear to have everything under control for the moment. Shall I start a batch of your barbecue sauce?” Alfred sounds all innocent but Jason knows better. He’s sneaky like that.  
  
“Not a chance, old man. That’s my one secret recipe. I am _on_ to you.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Nanimok who gave me the idea for the birthday treats Jason is making! Chocolate marshmallow cauldrons and butterbeer, both inspired by the Harry Potter universe. Because Tim would be a fan. ^.^


	2. Jason's First Day of College

“Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Jason exhales slowly as he tries to calm his racing heart.   
  
“I can,” Tim replies calmly and straightens the collar of the long-sleeved shirt Jason wears over his normal T-shirt. The classrooms can get cold with the over enthusiastic air conditioners in the late July heat. “This is what you hired Colin for after all.”  
  
Jason is starting to wonder what possessed him to do this but he knows he needs to look no further than the man sitting next to him in the car. Tim is the reason he does a great many things outside his comfort zone. Like attend swanky restaurant openings or museum events. And then there was the art gallery a few weeks ago. That was strange but the food turned out to be decent and they had fun making quiet comments about an extremely pretentious artist.   
  
Good times. Even with the monkey suit he wore and the noose around his neck.   
  
He sighs and pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. Time to stop stalling. “I can’t believe I’m going back to school. At _my_ age.”  
  
“You’re not that old.”   
  
“Says you, Mr. I-Have-Three-Degrees.”  
  
“And an unofficial fourth.” Tim grins cheekily, the little shit.  
  
“Right. Can’t forget the misspent youth.” Jason glances out the window of the car and grimaces. Best to get this over with. “Gimme a kiss for good luck?”  
  
“You’ll be fine.” Tim slides across the center console and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Get through today and you’ll get a better one later, plus a special treat.”  
  
Knowing Tim, this could be any number of things. Jason rolls his eyes and opens the door. “There better not be coffee involved.”   
  
“I promise. You’re going to do great, Jason. I know it.” Tim beams at him, so full of hope and faith.   
  
Jason won’t disappoint him, especially since Tim’s paying his tuition. “Yeah, yeah. You just want a return on your investment.”  
  
“Duh, I’m a businessman. We all do.”  



	3. Jason's Birthday (Tim's Got a List)

Tim paces around his kitchen, resisting the urge to open the oven and peek at the cake taking its sweet time baking within. He knows he doesn’t have to make a birthday cake for Jason, he really doesn’t, but after all the effort his boyfriend went through last month for his Harry Potter themed party, it’s the least he can do.   
  
He knows better than to overextend his culinary capabilities all in one day though. The rest of the meal he cheated on and ordered in. Party trays and platters line his dining room table, the scent of smoked brisket and pulled pork battling it out over the carrot cake in the oven.   
  
That’s still not done. Tim makes a face and turns on the oven light again. He’s got to get this out soon so it can cool enough to get the frosting on.   
  
“It’s not gonna bake if you keep staring at it,” Kon pronounces sagely as he enters the kitchen. He’s been on decorating duty.   
  
“Thought that was a watched pot,” Tim retorts.   
  
“Aunt Martha says otherwise.” Kon slings an arm over Tim’s shoulders and hauls him away. “The timer still says ten minutes, you doofus. Come look at what I’ve done.”  
  
Tim allows himself to be dragged out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Where he promptly gapes and tries not to laugh at the baby blue and white color scheme. The only thing out of place is the emerald green plastic table cloth over his mahogany table. “It looks like a baby shower, not a grown man’s birthday.”  
  
Kon looks around in consternation. It apparently doesn’t click until this moment what he’s done. “Well, shit. There was next to nothing in green and I know you said it’s Jason’s favorite color so I just grabbed whatever looked like it would work.”   
  
“Maybe Jason won’t notice,” Tim offers, even as he quietly panics over how nothing is turning out right. He made lists, dammit. _Lists_. He even gave one to Kon to make sure he didn’t forget anything.   
  
But there’s a reason why Kon is his best friend. He steers Tim back to the kitchen and plucks his wallet off the counter. “Gimme twenty bucks and thirty minutes. I can fix this,” he says firmly.   
  
Tim wordlessly hands over the money.   
  
“Focus on the cake, Tim,” Kon coaxes him. “You got this. I know Jason will be here soon. Maybe give him a birthday blowjob before he sees what I messed up in the dining room.”  
  
That draws a snort of laughter from Tim. “Kon, I hate to break it to you, but not everything can be solved with a blowjob.”  
  
Kon grins as he walks away. “But wouldn’t the world be a better place if it did?”  



	4. Not Quite a Brick to the Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt
> 
> myfavrobin said:
> 
> Other than the stories we’ve already chatted about... (Househunters AU.... the jaydicktim....) what about that one time some poor soul tried to rob the bar in the Tuesday Nights!verse and got punched in the face for his trouble?
> 
> Who am I to say no to more Tuesday Nights? ^.^

There’s a reason why Jason doesn’t keep a lot of cash on hand and makes regular bank runs when he does see an uptick in cash payments. That reason is staring him right in the face. 

“Really?” he asks even as he raises his hands in the air. 

He’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. 

“Yeah, really,” the guy with the gun snarls and waves the barrel around for good measure. “Gimme whatcha got.” 

Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s a Tuesday night, I got maybe twenty bucks in the till and half that is a roll of quarters.” 

“Stop stallin’.” 

“Just sayin’.” Jason shrugs and walks over to the cash register. “My register key is in my pocket,” he announces as he lowers one hand to dig out his keyring and find the aforementioned key. No point getting shot in the back by someone with a twitchy trigger finger. 

Too bad Tim isn’t here right now. He doubts this would be happening if there was someone else in the bar besides him. But no, his boyfriend is tucked away upstairs working on some report that only makes sense to him and Tam. 

Probably a good thing. He’d be tempted to go all ninja on this jackass. 

Jason opens the register and takes out the till, turning to set it on the counter in front of the robber. 

The man scowls as he takes a quick inventory. Jason hadn’t been kidding about the contents. “Where the fuck is the rest?” 

“In the bank. This is a small bar and there’s not a soul in here besides you and me.” It’s hard not to provoke him, so Jason keeps back all the choice words he wants to spew. 

“You gotta have a safe or somethin’,” the robber says in a rush. “C’mon, show me.” He waves the gun around again. 

Motherfucker. There’s about two hundred bucks in change back in his office. Not a ton of cash, but more than Jason wants this shit-stain to walk away with. He knows all too well what it feels like to be desperate and hungry but even he never stooped to robbing a business at gunpoint. 

No, he’d just wander in with empty pockets and wander right back out with slightly less empty pockets. 

“Sure, whatever,” Jason says and marches to the end of the bar, ducking under the counter as he does. 

The robber follows after him and presses the gun barrel against his neck as they walk to the back of the bar. “Don’t try nothin’ funny.” 

“If I wanted to try anything, I’d have grabbed my gun.” 

That makes the man’s breath hitch. “Why didn’t ya?” 

“Because shooting someone over twenty bucks is a stupid way to die.” Jason unlocks his office and opens the door. 

The safe is small and tucked away in a corner under the printer table Roy built. He kneels in front of it and enters the code. 

Back in the bar comes the distinct sound of the kitchen door swinging open. “Hey, Jason! I’m at a good stopping point, do you want to…” 

Son of a fucking bitch. 

Tim’s voice causes the robber to spin around, shifting his attention from Jason just long enough for him to rise to his feet and kick him in the knee. The guy stumbles as his leg gives out and grabs the side of the desk to keep his balance. 

“You fucker!” he cries out and raises the gun. 

Jason grabs the man’s wrist and yanks hard, directing the gun at the floor. It goes off and a bullet sends chunks of polished concrete flying. “You’re the one trying to rob me, jackass.” 

The guy shouts and tries to bring the gun back up, but Jason has too strong a hold on his arm to let him move. He spots Tim rushing down the short hall on silent feet, eyes wide as he takes in what’s going on. The expression his face changes from surprise to steely determination and before Jason can even blink, Tim strikes, arms moving in a blur of motion. 

“Do I even want to know what you just did?” Jason eyes the now wannabe robber laying on the floor groaning and kicks the gun out into the hall. 

Tim is rubbing his knuckles and frowning. “I punched him.” 

“No, I punch people. You do creepy ninja stuff.” 

“Jason, this guy had a gun.” 

“No, shit. Really? I must have missed that.” 

“He almost shot you.” 

“He shot the floor, which is going to cost me more to fix than what this asshat tried to rob me for.” 

Tim shakes his head. “You’re missing the point.” 

“The point is that I’ve been robbed before, Tim. This isn’t the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last. Everything was fine until you came downstairs.” Jason nudges the still groaning man with the tip of his boot. “Of course, everything was better before this fucker came in.” 

It’s clear when Tim just gives up trying to argue. “Do I need to call the police?” 

Jason gives the guy on the floor a pointed look. “I dunno. Hey you. Do we need to call the police?” The Bowery has its own form of justice, one that Tim hasn’t learned yet. He wouldn’t call it vigilante style justice, but the people here take care of their own. “Well?” he prods. 

Literally. Steel-toed boots against ribs is a pointed reminder of what pain he can inflict if the guy gives him the wrong answer. 

“No,” the man groans, cradling his wrist. “I’m good.” 

“Tim, keep an eye on him for me, would ya?” Jason returns to the safe, opens it, and takes out a roll of quarters. Standing, he glares down at the wannabe robber. “You should have stopped while you were ahead.” 

He drops it on the guy’s face. 

Ten minutes later, they’re alone and Tim is scowling at the locked door while Jason finishes cleaning up. There’s no point in staying open after what happened. 

“Spit it out,” he says after the silence drags on. 

“I just don’t get it,” Tim replies. “Why did you let him go?” 

“Do you really think the cops are gonna care about a petty theft call from the Bowery when there are so many other things they could be taking care of?” Jason shrugs and leans against the bar. “Unless someone is dead or dying, they rarely bother.” 

“And here I thought things had gotten better in this city.” Tim’s face falls at that, clearly remembering all the hard work he’d done to make that happen. 

“Trust me, they have. It used to be the cops only came if you were dead. Dying is definitely a step up.” 

“It shouldn’t have to be that way.” 

Jason sighs and reaches out to tug Tim into a loose hug. “Hammurabi’s code is alive and well here. I doubt even a Wayne could change that.” 

He recognizes the stubborn set to Tim’s jaw. Dammit. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just a Wayne. I’m also a Drake.”


	5. Impulse Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my cat and meme loving friend Nanimok! Happy birthday!

There are some days when Jason wishes he never had the harebrained idea to go back to school. He fully blames Tim.   
  
“How’s the research coming?” Tim asks absently from his sofa. For a change, he’s reading an actual book rather than something from his tablet. 

“Painfully,” Jason grouses as he tries to make heads or tails of the article in front of him. Having access to Tim’s computer setup at the brownstone helps immensely with keeping him organized, allowing him to write and take notes on one monitor and use another for the massive number of tabs he has open for his research paper. 

“You do know this is a beginning level psychology class, right?” Tim sounds amused. 

“Screw you. Doesn’t mean I’m going to half-ass it like the rest of those little punks are.” Jason has some solid opinions about his classmates, mostly that they’re whiners. There are two older people in this class along with him and they’ve already banded together against the reigning majority. 

The teacher is very amused by it all. 

“Whatever rocks your world,” Tim replies. Jason hears him getting up. “I’m making a sandwich. You want anything?” 

“A lobotomy.” 

“Pretty sure that’s 200 level stuff,” Tim says with a chuckle as he heads downstairs. 

Jason continues reading, eventually finding a rather fascinating case study that manages to both support and contradict the behavioral theory that he has to write about. Yeah, he’s putting way too much effort into this, but his first experience with college proved that he has to work his ass off to be taken seriously. As Tim pointed out earlier in the evening though, he’s almost ten years older and is a successful business owner in his own right, so who does he feel he has to prove himself to? 

The answer to that is easy, but is not one Jason feels the urge to share with Tim. Tim, who is so incredibly smart with his three degrees and building his own business from the ground up all in the name of a technological wonder he and Vic feel so strongly about that they both left the safety of WE to pursue it. 

How can he measure up to this unless he puts his all into it? He refuses to be seen and thought of as the pretty fucktoy on Tim’s arm. 

So extra research it is. At least it’s interesting. 

A small ping chimes and a minimized box on the taskbar flashes before it opens automatically. 

Jason frowns, not sure what Tim’s computer is doing opening some sort of chat box without him even clicking on it. 

The box flashes again as more text scrolls around the screen. 

ImpulsiveSpazz: _TIM, OMG GUESS WHAT?_  

ImpulsiveSpazz: _I’M GONNA BE IN METROPOLIS IN 2 WEEKS FOR A CONFERENCE. WANT TO MEET UP WITH ME AND KON?_  

Jason has a very good idea who this is now. Tim only has two close friends outside of Gotham. Conner Kent, Kansas farmboy turned wannabe reporter for the _Daily Planet_ and Bart Allen, a software developer and devout gamer out of Central City. The later has often been described as impulsive and a spazz by both Tim and Kon, so Jason is rather amused to see that the name apparently has been taken to heart by the other guy. 

ImpulsiveSpazz: _IT’S GONNA BE SO CRASH. LIKE, SERIOUSLY, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME WE WERE ALL TOGETHER?_  

ImpulsiveSpazz: _YOU SHOULD TOTALLY BRING JASON WITH TOO!! I WANT TO MEET HIM!_  

Clearly, the spazz comments are all true. 

“What’s so funny?” Tim asks, returning with two plates, one of which he sets aside for Jason to pick at eventually. 

“Your friend Bart. This just popped up out of nowhere.” He gestures to the chat box that continues to flash from the constant stream of text pouring in. “Isn’t typing in all caps considered shouting?” 

Tim leans in, pausing to press a kiss to Jason’s temple. “I’m so proud of you. We’ll bring you into the 21st century yet.” 

“Fuck you.” Jason is leaps and bounds better with technology than he was last year, thanks to the concentrated efforts of Tim, Roy, and Stephanie. 

“Maybe later if you ever finish your paper. Five pages, remember?” Tim hums as he reads the messages from Bart. “Oh, he must have been selected to attend that software expo going on in Metropolis in a couple weeks. I was thinking about taking Vic and heading up there myself for the day.” 

He nudges Jason to the side to take over the keyboard, fingers flying over the letters. 

CoffeeDragon: _That’s awesome! Gimme a sec to get my laptop booted up. Jason’s using my computer at the moment for a research paper._  

Jason knows better than to even comment about Tim’s username or handle or whatever the hell it’s called. Not if he wants to sleep in a bed tonight rather than on the sofa. 

ImpulsiveSpazz: _OOPS, SORRY JASON! DIDN’T MEAN TO INTERUPT!_  

Tim huffs one of his small laughs. “You can answer that one if you want. My gaming laptop is downstairs. I’ll be right back.” 

Gaming laptop? Jason doesn’t even want to ask. A laptop is a laptop, right? 

Apparently not in Tim’s world. 

He starts typing as Tim disappears downstairs again. It’s not anywhere near Tim’s speed, but Jason is at least proud of the fact that it’s not the hunt-and-peck method either. 

CoffeeDragon: _It’s fine. I needed a break anyway._  

Jason is surprised when Bart replies to him. 

ImpulsiveSpazz: _I THINK IT’S PRETTY CRASH THAT YOU’RE GOING BACK TO SCHOOL FOR ANOTHER DEGREE. TIM SAID YOU JUST STARTED A FEW WEEKS AGO?_  

Apparently all capital letters is how Bart types even when there are no exclamations to be seen.

CoffeeDragon: _Yeah. Two classes for now since I still have a business to run._

ImpulsiveSpazz: _WHATCHA TAKING?_  

Jason grimaces. The caps were starting to get on his nerves. 

CoffeeDragon: _Psych 101, ASL 101._  

ImpulsiveSpazz: _OHHH, YOU’RE LEARNING SIGN LANGUAGE? NO WONDER TIM LIKES YOU SO MUCH._  

That line is followed by a colon and a bunch of capital D’s. Jason shakes his head. He’s clearly missing something here but doesn’t give enough of a damn to care. 

The little text box suddenly fills with another line from CoffeeDragon, one that Jason hasn’t written, so Tim must have things running from downstairs. Figuring he doesn’t need to read their conversation, he minimizes the box, and, after taking a bite from his sandwich, gets back to his research. 

Papers don’t write themselves. 

~*~*~ 

Two weeks later, it’s a quiet Wednesday night at the bar. Jason leans against the counter and chats with one of his regulars. The night has been steady, which makes it go by that much faster. It’s already after ten and he’ll need to close down the kitchen soon, but there’s no particular rush. 

Tim had left Monday for that conference in Metropolis and expects to be home in the morning. Between work and his classes, Jason isn’t able to go with him and he’s okay with that. It isn’t as though Tim doesn’t understand the responsibilities he has here and besides, they’re not joined at the fucking hip. 

Still, Jason kinda loves that fact that when Tim said he’d be home Thursday, he means the loft upstairs, the place where they spend most of their time together. Does this make him a sap? Yup and he’s proud of it. 

A couple of people leave, waving good night to him as they head out the door. One more and he’ll take a few minutes to turn off the fryer and start some dishes. 

His luck isn’t with him tonight as the door opens again and a whirlwind races inside. 

“Tim, Tim! Is this it? This is it, right? Oh, look! Darts!” 

A whip-cord thin young man with gravity defying hair rushes toward the back of the bar to inspect the dartboard and, following in his wake, is Tim. Chuckling wryly and shaking his head, he approaches the bar. “The Tasmanian devil followed me home.” 

Jason leans over and brushes his lips against Tim’s briefly. “Clearly. I take it that’s Bart?” 

“Yes. How much do I need to bribe you to open the kitchen for some food? I’m starving and Bart wouldn’t shut up about wanting to try your fried pickles.” 

A couple of the regulars laugh at that. “Tim, that scrawny fella seems like he needs all the help he can get,” one of the older men says. 

Tim laughs right along with them. “It’s actually more rare to see him without something to eat or drink in his hands.” 

The subject of their discussion runs over to the bar. “Tim, we have to play darts. You’re gonna beat me at pool if we play that. Did you find out if the kitchen is still open?” 

Jason just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “It is, but only because I’ve been too busy to shut it down tonight.” 

Bart’s amber eyes widen comically. “Oh my god, I’m soooooo sorry. You must be Jason! I’m Bart!” He holds out his hand for Jason to take and shakes it vigorously. “I’m just so excited to finally meet you face to face! Tim never stops talking about you and I figured, since I was this close to Gotham for a change, it wouldn’t be too hard to fly back to Central from here instead of Metropolis so I could meet you!” 

The words spill out of Bart’s mouth faster than Jason can keep up. It’s a little overwhelming, but the guy has a bright smile and eager eyes that can’t contain his excitement. 

“I should have called ahead,” Tim says, trying to smooth things over. “I texted you a couple hours ago, but figured you were busy when you didn’t reply.” 

Jason gets his hand back and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Gimme a few minutes to see what I can find in back.” 

Delivery isn’t until tomorrow, so things are a bit slim in the kitchen after the busy weekend. Football season just started and the assholes in charge of his food deliveries screwed up his last order because apparently someone didn’t read it right. 

Still, he does have plenty of pickles, the mainstay of his little menu, and those are quickly dumped into the fryer while he rummages around for something else. The last of his chicken tenders are tossed in another basket and dropped into the hot oil. 

As he gets the plates ready, Jason wonders why Bart came all this way just to meet him. It’s not like he does anything interesting and a gamer he most definitely is not. If he had to guess, the only thing they have in common is Tim. 

Strong arms sneak around his waist and a familiar chin rests on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Bart,” Tim says quietly. “He’s just overly excited to be here. Wouldn’t stop chattering about it the entire train ride back.”

Jason sets down the squeeze bottle filled with his spicy aioli and clasps Tim’s hands in his own. “Why? I’m no one special.” 

The disgusted grunt from behind him speaks volumes about what Tim thinks of that. “Jason, you’re special to me and Bart, as one of my best friends, just wants to meet you and find out for himself what a great guy you are. He’s heard about you from me and Kon now, so it’s his turn finally.” 

“Well, if he’s heard about me from Kon, then he’s gotta know what a dick I can be.” 

“I think I may have called you an asshole a few times too.” Warm lips brush the back of his neck. “Just make nice tonight and tomorrow after his flight leaves, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“Oh, really?” Jason slides around in Tim’s arms to face him and smirks. “Does that mean you’re going to do my homework for me?” 

Tim huffs in amusement. “You are such a jackass. Do your own homework.” 

“It was worth a shot.” 

There’s a knock at the door. “Hey, is it safe to come back there? Are you two kissing? I’m hungry. Tim, want to play darts?” 

Jason sneaks in a quick kiss even as Tim withdraws to deal with his friend. “I feel like the boyfriend of a babysitter who keeps getting cockblocked by the kid whenever they try and make-out.” 

Tim laughs and kisses him again. “You’re not the first one to have made that comparison.”


End file.
